Thunder Raker

by Justin Richards

  Mr Trenchard sniffed. “Consorting with the enemy,” he said darkly. Then he looked up suddenly. “Wait a minute. These SPUD agents—how often do they watch the school?”

  “Every morning,” said Alfie. “They use binoculars.”

  “Then maybe they have the satellite already. It’s right under their noses.”

  Alfie shook his head. “I don’t think so. They were still hiding and drinking tea this morning. One of them had a rich tea finger.”

  The Head Teacher nodded and steepled his fingers. “Excellent. Now then, Alfie, what’s your plan for recovering the satellite?”

  Alfie was surprised. “My plan?”

  “You found the satellite, you know all about the SPUD agents and this collaborator woman, your homework was pretty good. You must have a plan. I’m turning this mission over to Class 3D at once.”

  There were cheers when Alfie told the class what had happened. Even Chloe looked pleased at the news. They decided to spend their morning break drawing up their plans.

  “The first thing we must do,” Beth said, “is use my detector to find exactly where the satellite is.”

  “It’s quite a big back garden,” Alfie agreed.

  “Maybe the SPUD agents have already found it,” Chloe said.

  “Have they?” Alice asked Alfie.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. They were still hiding and drinking tea this morning.”

  “Doesn’t sound like they know where to look then,” Sam said.

  “Or they were on a break,” Chloe said.

  “Either way,” Jack said, “we need to stop them finding the satellite before we can get to it.”

  “We should take them out,” Harry decided.

  “Where to?” Alfie asked. “Maybe a tea shop? With biscuits?”

  “No,” Sam said, “Harry means shoot them.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Alice asked. “It might attract attention.”

  “I can make silencers for Sam’s built-in machine guns,” Beth offered.

  “But I was going to use the grenade launcher in the seat back and the rockets from between the wheels,” Sam said.

  “What do you think, Alfie?” Alice asked.

  “Yes, come on Mr Clever Clogs,” Chloe said.

  “I think,” Alfie said slowly, “that we need to get them out of Mrs Prendagast’s garden. The best way to do that is to convince them that the satellite is really somewhere else.”

  “Terrific!” Jack exclaimed. “We stage a crash landing. Get another satellite to come down somewhere else and make sure they see it. We can hide nearby and make satellite-crashing noises in case they miss it.” He demonstrated: “Neeeeeaaaaaooooow wwwww—booomph!”

  “Or,” said Alfie, “we could just dig a big hole and pretend we’ve already found it.”

  Chapter 9

  By the end of the afternoon the older children from Upper School had dug a pit at the side of the playground well away from Mrs Prendergast’s garden. The spot had been carefully chosen by Sir Waverly Compass. Since the Major had been taken off the digging party the sides of the pit hadn’t collapsed and buried anyone at all.

  Sergeant Custer was on guard, making as much noise as he could to make sure the SPUD agents would realise there was something “going on”. He marched up and down, shouting, “Who goes there?” and “Can’t tell you, it’s a secret but it’s absolutely nothing at all whatsoever to do with any special satellites that might have crashed in this area recently, oh dear me no.” Which was completely true.

  To make the illusion as complete as possible, the Chaplain was organising a PE lesson with Class 11F on one side of the pit—a fairly routine session with skipping ropes, hoops, footballs and a savage Siberian tiger.

  On the other side of the pit, Miss Fortune was teaching what was left of 10A. There had been nine children in her group when she started but they were now down to only three, who all looked rather nervous.

  The men in black uniforms and dark glasses had been spotted hiding in the bushes at the edge of the playground. They watched closely, ready to move in as soon as they saw anything that looked like a secret satellite…

  In their classroom, Class 3D had a picture of Mrs Prendergast’s back garden projected onto the white board. It had been taken with a digital camera from a radio-controlled model plane that Beth had adapted to fly over the area. Until it passed over the Major as he made his way from the digging to First Aid—then it crashed in a ball of flame, singeing the Major’s eyebrows and blackening his face with smoke.

  “Can’t see much,” Harry complained.

  “We really need to see it from closer up,” Alfie said. “How high was the camera when it took this?”

  “Three miles,” Beth said proudly.

  “And the garden is that little dot just there?” Alice checked.

  “No, that’s Birmingham. The garden is here,” Beth said, using her laser pointer. It burned a hole through the board. “Or is it over there?” The hole stretched into a smoking line as she moved the pointer. “I wonder if I have this turned up too high.”

  “Maybe we need a new plan to find exactly where the satellite is,” Chloe said. “I think we’ve left it too much to Alfie.”

  “I’ve been working on a plan,” Jack said proudly. He nodded to Sam.

  One arm of Sam’s wheelchair flipped open and a metal rod extended upwards. Fixed to the top was a rolled sheet of paper, which dropped down. On the paper was a large picture. Everyone looked at it in surprise.

  “Isn’t that…” Alfie said slowly, “…a badger?”

  “Absolutely,” said Jack. And here’s the plan. Once we’ve identified the SCAR, then we can effect a TUF. The TABs will then use the TUF to reach the SCAR. The TABs will go into SET mode and Bob’s your uncle. Any questions?”

  Alice put her hand up. “What does BOB stand for?”

  “It doesn’t stand for anything. It’s a saying. “Bob’s your uncle.” Bob is short for Robert. And it means everything is OK.”

  “So what does OK stand for?” Chloe asked.

  “My uncle,” Harry said slowly, “is called Derek.”

  “I think I got the Bob stuff,” Alfie said, “but what was the other bit about?”

  “Which other bit?” Jack asked.

  “All of it. Can you say it again, please, slowly.”

  Jack took a deep breath. “Once…we…have…id…ent…if…ied…”

  “Er, a bit quicker than that,” Beth said.

  “All right. Once we’ve identified the SCAR, then we can effect—”

  “Hang on,” Alfie said quickly. “What’s a SCAR?”

  “It’s like, when you cut yourself,” Sam said, “You know, on a sharp edge or maybe it’s a scratch from a plant or something. Might be in the kitchen…Or even a burn will do it…I remember once, when my mum was out—”

  “The SCAR,” Jack said importantly, “is the Satellite Crash Area of Recovery.”

  “Right,” Alfie said. “So, once we find where the satellite has crashed…”

  “…then we can effect a TUF,” Jack finished.

  Alice opened her mouth to ask a question.

  Jack sighed. “Tunnel Under the Fence,” he explained. He shook his head sadly. “Don’t any of you know anything? Right, after we tunnel under the fence, where Mrs Prendergast’s garden borders the school grounds, then the TABs—that’s the Trained Assault Badgers…”

  Sam pointed to the big picture beside him. “Badgers,” he confirmed.

  “Yes, the badgers will use the TUF…”

  “The tunnel under the fence,” Alice said.

  “That’s right, they’ll use the tunnel to reach the SCAR.”

  “The satellite,” Harry said.

  “Very good, yes. And they—the badgers—will go into SET mode.”

  “Is that the set where they live?” Alfie asked.

  “No,” Jack said. “It’s Satellite Equipment Transfer mode. It means they’ll bring it back to us.”

/>   “The badgers,” Sam said, pointing to his picture again.

  “Yes.”

  “Which we have trained,” Harry said.

  “Of course.”

  “Sorry,” Harry said. “But, when did we do that?”

  “Er,” Jack said.

  “Do we actually have any badgers?” Alfie asked.

  “Maybe we could use the Chaplain’s electric eel?” Alice suggested.

  Sam shook his head. “I haven’t got a picture of that.”

  “Robert might have one,” Harry told him.

  “Who is Robert?” Jack asked.

  “I thought he was your uncle. Bob for short.”

  “So,” Alfie said quickly, “apart from having no badgers, trained or not, and not knowing exactly where the satellite is in the garden, and not having dug a tunnel under the fence, it’s a good plan.”

  “Thanks,” said Jack, beaming. “Hey, maybe the badgers could wear specially adapted cameras on their heads and search for the satellite when they get there.”

  “Do we have any specially adapted cameras?” Alfie asked.

  “We’ve got as many as we have badgers,” Beth told him.

  “Then they can have one each,” Harry said. “And we’ll find the satellite in Mrs Prendergast’s garden in no time.”

  “Or,” Alfie said patiently, “we could borrow binoculars from Mrs Nuffink’s Surveillance Classroom, and go up on the school roof and see if we can spot it from there.”

  Chloe sighed. “I thought it was someone else’s turn to come up with a plan.”

  “I think it’s a great idea!” Alice said. “We’ll spot the satellite from the roof.”

  “Yes,” Sam agreed. “I’ll put the badger away.” As the picture rolled up and the metal rod returned to the arm of his wheelchair, he asked: “So, what does SPOT stand for?”

  Chapter 10

  Mr Trenchard joined Class 3D on the flat roof over the science block.

  “What does the satellite look like?” Alfie asked.

  “What satellite?” Mr Trenchard asked. Five minutes later, after consulting his paperwork, he told them: “It’s a metal ball, about this big.” He pointed to Harry’s head. “Only without a face on it,” he added, in case there was any confusion. “Or ears. Or hair, actually.”

  “Got it!” Alice said. She pointed out where she had seen it through her binoculars. Everyone else raised their binoculars and turned to look.

  “Yes, that’s the fellow,” Mr Trenchard confirmed. “You see—no ears at all. So what now? How will you retrieve the satellite?”

  “Badgers,” Harry said.

  “I think we’ve moved on from that,” Alfie told him.

  “I’ve designed this,” Beth said, and unrolled a complicated plan she had drawn. It showed Sam sitting in his wheelchair. From the front, two long grabber arms were extended. Details showed how the arms were jointed and what motors and controls were needed to make them reach over the fence, pick up the satellite and lift it back over.

  “Oh, this is marvellous,” Mr Trenchard said, examining the plan. “Very impressive. And I’m an expert you know,” he went on.

  “Oh yes, I used to design secret weapons that could be hidden in fields—at the Department of Advanced Field Technology. It’s better known by its initials, of course.”

  “That’s DAFT,” Alfie said.

  “Completely bonkers,” Trenchard agreed, “but it kept us busy. Right then, over to you.”

  Beth found all the equipment she needed in the science block, and with help from the rest of Class 3D she set about welding and bolting and fixing wide steel arms and enormous motors to the front of Sam’s wheelchair.

  “I’m not sure this will work,” Alfie said when they’d finished.

  “Just because it wasn’t your idea,” said. Chloe.

  “Nonsense, it’s perfect,” said Beth. She let go of the metal claw she had just attached to the end of one of the long arms and stepped back.

  Slowly, Sam’s wheelchair pitched forwards and he fell out. “Bit too heavy,” he said.

  “Go on a diet,” Chloe advised.

  “Not me—Beth’s metal arms.”

  Harry looked stunned. “Beth has metal arms?”

  “We just need to hang on the back of the chair and balance it,” said Alice.

  With the rest of Class 3D hanging on the back and the metal arms sticking out and up from the front, Sam’s wheelchair moved very slowly even at full speed.

  “You’ll burn my motors out,” he complained.

  “Sam’s got motors?”

  “Be quiet, Harry,” Jack said. “You know he has.”

  “There, you see,” said Beth as they continued to roll forwards. “I told you this would work.”

  Then the wheelchair reached the door. Usually it fit through easily. But not now. One metal arm collided with the wall on one side

  of the doorway. The other one tangled in the handle of the open door. The sudden jolt knocked everyone off the back of the chair and it toppled forwards into the doorway, the two new metal arms twisting off and landing in a shattered heap on either side.

  “That was Alfie’s fault,” Chloe said. A bit unfairly, Alfie thought.

  “So what do we do now?” Alice asked. “Those SPUD agents won’t be fooled by the fake crash site for long.”

  “I think,” said Alfie, “that we should play a game of football.”

  After some discussion about who should go in goal, Alfie managed to explain why he really wanted to play football.

  Chloe shook her head and folded her arms. “Wasting more time,” she said. “I saw three SPUD agents heading for Mrs Prendergast’s just now.”

  “Let’s hope they’re on their tea break,” said Beth.

  “I don’t think they are,” Jack told them. “They’re searching the garden—you can see them through the fence, look.”

  Everyone agreed they’d better start playing football at once. Sam had just about recovered from his ordeal with the metal arms, but even so he said he’d sit the game out rather than whiz round and knock the ball about.

  “Just as well,” Alice told Alfie. “He’s lethal in that thing. Doesn’t just go for the ball. Sent Harry flying last time we played. Scooped him up on the foot rests and then couldn’t see where he was going. They both disappeared out of the grounds and Sergeant Custer had to go after them in the school Armoured Personnel Carrier.”

  “I think that as we couldn’t arrange my badger plan, I should be the one to do it,” Jack said.

  Alfie shrugged. “Fine by me. You know what to say?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Let’s play for a few minutes first,” Alfie said, “just so it doesn’t look suspicious.”

  “Not too long,” Chloe warned.

  After five minutes, they all agreed it was time. Jack took a tremendous run-up and gave the ball a colossal kick. It flew high up in the air.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Jack announced loudly. “Well, will you look at that. Sorry, looks like it’s going over.”

  “Oh, Jack!” everyone said as the ball flew over the fence and into Mrs Prendergast’s garden. SPUD agents dived for cover and hid in the shrubbery.

  “I suppose,” Jack said loudly, “that I’d better go and ask if I can get it back.” He winked, and ran off towards the main school gates.

  Everyone waited expectantly. Soon Jack ran back triumphantly. He was holding a round object about the size of Harry’s head but with no ears. “I got it!” he exclaimed. “The ball landed right next to the satellite. What luck!”

  They all stared at what Jack was holding. “That’s our football,” Alfie said.

  “Well, yes. I kicked it over the fence and went to get it back, remember. But it worked, Alfie—now we know exactly where the satellite is. All we need to do is find and train some badgers.”

  “Er,” Beth said, “I don’t think that was quite what Alfie had in mind. Was it, Alfie?”

  “Then he should have explained better,�
� Chloe said. “Now the SPUD agents will get the satellite and it’s Alfie’s fault. Look—they’re searching that part of the garden now.”

  Alfie could see several men in dark glasses approaching where Jack had found the satellite. He quickly took the ball from Jack and kicked it high over the fence. “My turn,” he said.

  A few minutes later, having asked Mrs Prendergast politely if he could get his ball back, apologised for kicking it over again and promised that yes, they would play further away from her fence, Alfie was in the garden. He could see the satellite nestling under a holly bush at the edge of a flowerbed. The football was close by. But so was a SPUD agent, searching on hands and knees for the satellite…

  The man drew back into cover as Alfie approached. Alfie reached the football and kicked it towards the bushes, running quickly after it…

  Soon, Alfie was back with his friends from Class 3D. He was carrying a silver ball about the size of Harry’s head. Lights flashed round the edge, and it made bleep—bleep noises.

  “That,” Harry said seriously, “is not our football.”

  There was a special assembly before the end of school, where Mr Trenchard thanked Class 3D for their excellent work recovering the whatever-itwas. He gave Miss Jones a certificate that had been specially printed by Mr Cryption. It said:

  Everyone was delighted. Even Chloe spared Alfie a smile. But then she seemed to realise what she was doing, and it changed into a frown.

  “And I gather from someone’s father…” Mr Trenchard said, pausing to wink knowingly at Harry, “…that the SPUD agents sent to find the satellite, thought they’d worked out where it crashed and have returned to SPUD HQ with a football. They are, even as I speak, trying to find out how it works.”

  “I think you just kick it,” Harry said. “No homework tonight?” Alfie’s dad asked as they watched television together that evening.

  “No. We did so well at school we were let off homework for today.”

  “I’m glad you’re settling in,” Dad said. “You know, I wasn’t really sure if you’d like it.”

  “Dad, can I ask you something?”

  “Of course you can, Alfie. Something about school?”